#space marine oc

[beckyninja]

@thememestrider Y'know? I've been debating starting a Salamander x FemReader fic. Perhaps Apothecary Nev'ran will make a reappearance.

Relief

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: talk of periods, sexual content, MDNI

Description: Titus "helps" his serf lover through a particularly painful time of the month.

Forget whatever I said about my last fic. This one is definitely the spiciest thing I've ever written! I had planned on something entirely different, but then "that time of the month" reared its ugly head. And suddenly all I could think about was having a strong, handsome Astartes to help me through it.

Titus didn’t sprint, though he wanted to. 

After enduring the ominous warnings of the Chaplain, the disdain of Captain Acheran, and the incessant prying of his new squad (not to mention the small matter of a tyranid invasion), he longed for the solace of your presence.

Your touch.

Rage still burned like promethium within him when he remembered entering his quarters to find you half-starved. 

“You’re alive.” You’d whispered upon seeing him. “You’re alive.”

When I find the one responsible for her suffering….

His growl sent several serfs darting out of his path. He walked faster and, at last, the door to his quarters came into view. Soon, he would have you in his arms.

Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought. 

The first time he lay with you, before Kadaku and his remaking, had been beyond his imaginings. Baseline anatomy lessons from his neophyte days supplied the rudiments. But he had the Space Wolves and a solitary Salamander he’d met in the Death Watch to thank for the rest.

He’d encountered the former boasting of their conquests one evening in the dining hall after one of them had smuggled in a few barrels of foul-smelling mjod. As they grew more intoxicated, they delighted in shocking the more puritanical Astartes in the Watch with detailed descriptions of “fraternization”. 

Titus remembered being repulsed at first. Though, against his better instincts, that repulsion soon turned to wary curiosity. 

While the Wolves howled about conquering and claiming, a Salamander Apothecary had taken a seat next to Titus and shaken his head.

“Not all baseline females are the wild she-wolves of Fenris.” The old drake had rumbled quietly. “If an Astartes is blessed with the affections of a woman, he should cherish her with gentleness, for she is rare and precious.”

Titus remembered a sorrowful look in the veteran’s red eyes as he spoke, and the way he stroked a bone reliquary tied at his waist. 

He had tried to incorporate all he’d overheard into your union. You’d been so fragile in his hands, so vulnerable. And when your body welcomed him inside. When, amidst the white heat of his own ecstasy, he saw you gaze up at him….

Throne of Terra, I would slaughter every tyranid in the Hive Fleet to have you look at me like that always.

He punched his code into the access panel. He only had a few hours of leisure to spare, and a third of that had already been taken up in removing his armor. But he needed to feel your skin upon his again.

The door hissed open and-

Blood.

Every enhanced sense he possessed sharpened to a razor’s edge as the metallic scent filled his nostrils. Unlike before, when his mind had been clouded by sleep, he knew with absolute certainty this blood came from your body. 

The room was empty. Half the candles lit. One smoking tapir on its side by the cot. Indents on the mattress the size of small baseline hands. Drops of red on the floor. The sharp taste of stress and pain chemicals. Soft whimpers from the lavatory.

All this came to him in the time between heartbeats. Another heartbeat and he stood before the closed lavatory door.

“Little Healer?”

The medicae had said you would be fine. An injection of nutrients, a high calorie meal, and rest. You already looked better when he left you in the infirmary. They said you would be fine.

He’d had to leave. He had no choice. They said you would be fine!

“Demetrian?”

Conscious and able to speak. He leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door.

“I am coming in.”

A sharp gasp. “No! Just, just give me a moment, please.”

He heard pain in your voice. His instincts screamed at him to tear through the metal to reach you.

The door slid open.

Pale skin. Sweat beads on your forehead. Hunched shoulders. You smiled up at him, but reeked of misery.

He scooped you into his arms. “We are returning to the infirmary.”

“Demetrian-”

“You are still unwell.”

“Demetrian, please-”

He strode toward the door of his quarters. “Or did you injure yourself?”

“No, Demetrian! Listen-”

“I should not have left you alone.”

A tiny fist bounced off his jaw. He stopped mid-stride and looked down at you in shock. You looked back at him, then down at your clenched fist, seemingly stunned by your own actions.

“I…I…,” you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

“My lord?” He muttered. 

“Please put me down. I’m not unwell. And I’m not injured.”

He scowled. “You reek of blood, woman.”

Throne, has whatever hurt she suffered affected her mind as well?

“I know, but it’s…it’s natural, Demetrian.”

The Warp it is. “Explain.”

She sighed. “Can you put me down first? Please?”

“No.” 

He tightened his grip. If her mind was unbalanced, who knows what she might do if he released her.

Another sigh. “Fine. Once a month, a woman’s body undergoes a certain process….”

He remained silent during her entire explanation. When she finished, he carefully set her upon his cot.

“And this…cycle…causes pain?”

“Every woman experiences it differently. Some only ever feel mild discomfort, for others it’s little short of agony.”

You bit your lip. The pain smell spiked and, with it, his concern. 

“Why have I not noticed before?”

You breathed slowly now, in through your nose, out through your mouth. “You’ve always been on mission during this time. And…agh…in the Watch Fortress, Lord Apothecary Nev’ran made sure to set pain suppressants aside for us female serfs.”

The old Salamander always had a soft spot for the baselines, Titus remembered.

A low moan drew his attention back to you. You folded on his cot, arms wrapped around your midsection. 

His fingers twitched, automatically seeking a weapon. The instinct to destroy whatever caused you pain surged. He needed to fix this.

“Did you request pain suppressants from the medica?”

You started rocking slightly. “I…tried. He said they were unnecessary and dismissed me. I didn’t dare argue. In the Fortress, there were serfs I could go to for help during this time.” You looked up at him with a tight smile. “But I’m beginning to think I’m the only woman on this ship.”

Titus thought back over the last few days, and all the baseline crew he’d encountered.

She may be right.

“Oh Emperor….” 

Your whimper felt like another Carnifex talon through his chest.

“There must be something I can do.” He knelt before you, cupping your face in his hand. “Anything.”

You pressed against him. “Heat. Heat sometimes helps.” 

He let you move his hand to your lower stomach. You opened your robes and pressed it against your skin. 

“And, on my back, please?” 

Before you’d even finished asking, he slipped his other hand in and around. You gripped his arms and whined.

“Oh, oh yes.” 

He shouldn’t be aroused by this. You were still in pain. But your soft sounds of helplessness, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the way you trembled. All of it called to a primal part of him only recently awakened.

And when you looked up at him in wonder and said, “You’re…you’re so much bigger now.”

Throne damn it.

Titus yanked you to him and took your mouth. You yelped, but did not struggle, instead throwing your hands around his neck and digging your fingers into the hair at his nape. He snarled at the sensation, pushing his tongue past your lips like you’d shown him that first night.

This time your moan sounded of pleasure.

He pressed his body against you, lowering you to your back on the cot. Your hands left his neck and fluttered against his chest. You pulled away from his kiss.

“Demetrian….”

He pressed his mouth to your throat, laving it with his tongue and tasting your sweat. He searched for a spot he could bite without leaving a visible mark. 

“Demetrian, stop!”

The magnitude of his selfishness crashed upon him.

“Throne. Forgive me, Little Healer.” Reeling back, he searched your face for any sign of pain. “I…I did not think, I…,” he raked a hand over his face, desperately trying to rein in his baser instincts.

“It’s all right. It’s just, now might not be the best time.”

“Would it cause you more pain?”

A blush spread across your cheeks. “Um…no, that’s not it. In fact, some women say…this…actually helps.”

“Truly?” 

Desire welled within him once more, washing away any lingering guilt. He bracketed your small body with his hands and loomed over you. 

“Then why should I stop?” You turned your face away, but he gently grasped your chin. “Look at me, and tell me why.”

“It, it,” he heard your heart beating wildly, “it could get a bit…messy.”

He blinked, then allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “Woman, when has an Astartes ever shied away from the sight of blood?”

A new smell met his nose, one he had only recently become familiar with. He lowered his face close to yours and inhaled deeply. 

“You want this as much as I.”

You nodded frantically, hands suddenly pawing at his collar. “Yes! I want this. Please, Demetrian. Please, please, please!”

He tore his robe open and flung it to the floor. Your clothing swiftly followed. The scent of blood and arousal maddened him. He tried to pull your thighs around him, but you winced at the stretch.

For the first time he cursed the Primaris surgery. Grasping your hips, he turned you on to your front and settled behind you. He ran his hands down your back and sides, loving the way you trembled.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”

You pushed back against him. “Please, Demetrian.”

He thrust and your wet heat welcomed him in. His eyes rolled at the sensation, still so unlike anything he ever thought he’d experience. You cried out far louder than you had the first time. 

“Demetrian! S-so big…!”

Again. Again. Again, he thrust. In this position he felt powerful, primal. Like a beast claiming its mate.

The Wolves were right, damn them!

All at once, you tightened and screamed. With a growl he followed you over the edge. 

You collapsed onto your front. “Please…more….”

The first time, he’d only taken you once, denying his satisfaction for the sake of your overwhelmed little body. But now you begged him to continue. Who was he to refuse?

Three more times he released deep within. He pressed himself to your back, hand fondling your breasts as he pounded relentlessly. He lost count of how many times you shook apart around him. His own blinding pleasure paled in comparison to the knowledge that his actions relieved your pain. 

A tool designed to inflict suffering on others, but he brought you ecstasy.

“D-Demetrian…,” you whimpered. 

His fingers dug into the bruised flesh of your hips. “One more.”

You wailed as he filled you one last time, arching his spine to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Then he collapsed on his side.

He caressed your sweat-streaked back, allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the haze of pleasure. You lay still and panting next to him. 

“Are you well, my love?”

“Mmmm.”

By now, he recognized the sound of bone-deep satisfaction. He smiled down at you, already feeling his own body recovering. 

“You were right about one thing.”

“Mmm?”

“That was rather messy.”

You turned your head and attempted to glare at him. He chuckled, rose, and fetched a wet cloth from the lavatory. Ignoring your reaching hands, he cleaned the both of you. Then he sat on the edge of the cot and lifted you into his arms.

“Better?”

Your dreamy smile answered him. An entirely different kind of heat warmed his hearts as he cradled you. He ran a thumb over the imprint of teeth on your shoulder.

“I was not too rough?”

“You were perfect.” Your hands traced his new scars. “Throne of Terra, I came so close to losing you, didn’t I?”

He heard tears in your voice and held you closer.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “Another side effect of this time. I tend to turn into something of a weepy, clingy mess.”

“I enjoy your clinging.”

“But you need to go.”

“Yes.” As always, your respite, brief as it was, left him better prepared to handle the weight of his duty. “Will you be alright?”

“You have enough trouble without worrying about me, Demetrian. Human women have endured since our species began. I’ll be fine.” Your smile flickered. “Please, be safe. I love you.”

“And I you.” He pulled his robe back on and leaned down to kiss you once more. “I will return.”

And, I swear, I will find another way to ease your pain. 

***

An hour passed. You rested for a bit, then dressed and cleaned yourself more thoroughly. You stripped the sheets from the mattress and prepared for the trek to the laundry and then the serf’s dining hall. Not only had Titus's attentions eased your cramps, but you thought you might actually have an appetite again.

Just as you were about to leave, a few sharp raps sounded at the door.

“Who…?” 

You opened it to find a slight young woman with a face full of freckles and a satchel over one shoulder. Her robes marked her as a serf and a medica.

“Thank the Emperor!” She gushed. “I was afraid I’d gotten the wrong room!”

“Um. Hello?”

“My name is Vesta. I was just transferred here alongside my Lord Callistus. He’s supplementing the Apothecaries already in residence, you know. I was afraid I’d be the only woman! There are so few of us serving on the battle barges.”

You blinked, head-spinning from the rapid-fire chatter. “I see?”

She continued, stepping straight past you into the room. “I was just on my way back to the infirmary, when this massive Primaris Lord Angel barreled down on me. How fearsome he was! I don’t need to tell you I was terrified I’d done something wrong, and on my first day on a new ship, too! But he said you were experiencing some difficulties and needed assistance.”

Oh, Demetrian…. You fought a smile.

Vesta plopped the satchel on the cot. “I have pain suppressants, cleansing cloths, sanitary napkins. I do hope I brought enough.”

“This is incredibly kind of you.”

“Us women have to stick together, right?” She smiled cheerfully. “I hope we’ll be great friends!”

You found yourself warming to her effervescence. “I would like that.”

“You’re so fortunate to have a Lord Angel who’s attentive to your needs!”

You turned away, suddenly all too aware of the pleasant ache between your thighs. “Yes. I am.”

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss @vyzz-undercover

@missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock

If you enjoy my writing, check out the rest of the stuff on my Masterlist.

[eralacrimae]

[40k OC] Raphael, Dark Angel Librarian, featuring his personal Eye of Terror

[taythecatfey]

I didn't need a reason to give space marines cake but James and his workshop said it's cannon now.

Its a morale booster for the guard behind them

Thank you James and your Workshop

[ka0mik]

Autism doesn't "speak"

IT ANNIHILATES WITHOUT MERCY FOR THE IMPERIUM OF MAN

[valhallasoutlaw]

I loved this scene, so I sketched it with 40kRenegade

[sodariusabobusus]

Just Blood Angel enjoying his meal

[littledarknesgold]

A Brief Respite

Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive, Possessive, Possessive behaviour, Mention of blood, Mention of killing an animal

(Tired of all this sushi and hype around the Astartes, the man actively rejects the idea of connecting with the Space Marine who begins to hang around near their home)

You wake up again to rustling and scurrying sounds outside, it seems that even the fact that you bought a house in the wilderness did not help you escape from being stopped from being disturbed, but at least you were able to escape from something else, from this maddening fanaticism for these damn Astartes. Space Marines. Or whatever they are called? In short, from these creatures.

They came out of nowhere, speak an incomprehensible language, do whatever they want and most importantly, everyone is delighted with them (not everyone, but most people), even your shitty friends, in whom you thought you would find common sense, one after another got hooked on this shit.

You feel sick from this, you want to take a double-barreled shotgun and shoot yourself, but this is not the first time the world has gone crazy, right?

New rustling sounds outside force you to get out of bed and, throwing open the window, shout, "Get out, you garbage rat!"

For a while the sounds stop and with a feeling of deep satisfaction you wait back in bed, already closing your eyes you jump from the sound of broken glass.

Something flew through the window and slammed against the wall, falling to the floor, leaving a dark stain of blood on the wall.

You couldn't fall asleep until the morning. Only in the morning, in the light of the merciful sun, you saw a 'gift' (or a threat?) - a dead rat, or rather what was left of it after hitting the wall.

With disgust and revulsion, you threw the rat into the trash, washing the blood stain off the wall all day. You had heard enough about the manhunters among the Astartes, so the next night you slept fitfully, hugging your gun.

However, it was of little help when a huge shadow broke into your house.

[cjaybrex]

And here is Maximus and his cat Nixie. Just some wholesome 40k stuff

[tanknode]

Behold! My boys! I've never drawn out my wh ocs till now but here's the main 3. Victor, a blood angel apothecary, Shemar , an Emporers children recon soldier, and Trevor a salamander battle brother.

[admiralallen]

This image is huge 3000x5300. ANywho,

Did some Artwork of myself and friends in WH40k with the release of Space Marine 2. (I am on the left-LesgoSalamanders!)

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Choices in Silence

Author's note: Catius's next chapter. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric.

Past =-= Next

Warnings: A Bit of A Panick Attack From Ramiel, Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary: Catius gets back to base. Warns Cedric, and they split up to warn the rest of them. Catius doesn't realize that Hura's listening in to their panicked worry. He offers a solution; come to the Chaos Base and hide out there until Chaplain Captain Petras leaves. For it's likely the Chaplain Captain and his war band will visit the base for various reasons.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Catius had returned swiftly from the city back to the base, with only about half of the things that he was ordered to requisition from the base line human city.

He checked in and did the proper procedures to make sure that the items were in inventory and then headed in to check in with Captain Ash’val before being told to stay in the base.

He nodded and then practically ran towards where he knew Cedric was, his helmet off and eyes wide with fear as he warns Cedric about Chaplain Captain Petras being in the city. Again.

Cedric’s reaction is understandable, Catius catches the object that he had in his hands and informed his fellow Apothecary that he was going to inform the rest of the Primaris Marines that they knew of about his presence.

Cedric recovered with admirable swiftness and he says shakily, “I will tell Ramiel.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Jophiel and Claude then,” Catius says as he carefully sets down whatever finnicky Apothecary thing he’d caught as Cedric’s hands had shook and understandably grown clumsy with terror.

Cedric had been the one to find Ramiel as the other was murdered by his Mentor for the crime of being a Primaris Marine. There is much that they haven’t spoken of to their elder cousins and brothers from different Eras about what things are like in M42. Mostly because whatever they do tell them, seems to upset the lot of them. Catuis gently squeezes one of Cedric shoulders as he tugs the other in for a brief hug, gently tapping their foreheads together.

“Claude will have hiding spots in mind for us, whether we are all together or split up,” Catius said. “He… he’s with one of the Feral Warbands of Black Templars. They don’t tend to stay in base line cities in Ancient Terra for long. I... informed Captain Ash’val of- of… him and the danger he represents to you and Ramiel specifically.”

“He’s a threat to all Primaris,” Cedric points out quietly.

“Yeah,” Catius says with a nod, “But, per The Rules, if he goes after non-chapter loyalists for no good reason it will get him and his War Band into an amount of Trouble that he likely won’t want to deal with.”

“… He Challenged Lord Helbretch on his decision to allow us to live,” Cedric argues.

“And he suffered the consequences for it,” Catius pointed out with a hopeful ting to his voice.

What Catius did not notice when he’d bolted into the storage room that Cedric was in, was that another Apothecary had been with Cedric. An older Apothecary. A Chaos aligned one. Hura had paused in what he was doing when the Scout-ling Catius had burst into the room wild-eyed and spooked. Wondering if he or one of the others had found yet another wounded Primaris Scout-ling.

What he learned of, at least vaguely was about some Schism that happened within the Loyalists of The Black Templars. About a Loyalist Chaplain Captain who murdered a Loyal Scout-ling. One he specifically chose to train. Hura’s hands slowly clenched into fists. How wasteful! He’d met skittish young Ramiel, who was a quiet, and dutiful young man.

He’s quite frankly impressed that the youngster hadn’t decided to go ‘fuck it, I’m going Renegade or Chaos’ for such a betrayal. First Born brothers had done so for less. Apparently the psycho-indoctrination in M42 is far more advanced. Not that he’s surprised.

“He might come to this base,” Hura pipes up.

Both youngsters jump and whirl to face them, eyes wide. He stops himself from chuckling, youngsters occasionally forgot to check their surroundings when so upset. Which was fine, he’s honestly pleased that he didn’t register as A Threat, at least for the moment.

“As he’s a Loyalist, and even the Feral War Bands have to come to base occasionally when they are in the city for check ins on what they have seen, and medical checkups,” Hura says honestly. “Among other, various things.”

The way the Scout-lings curl in on themselves, recoiling in horror at the thought of that. The despair on their faces and mounting panic as they look at each other. Even if they do hide in this base. They have a higher likelihood to be found by him or his war band mates, simply by being in the same space.

“I have a proposal,” Hura continues, after pausing to see the impact his words are making, “You could come visit the Chaos Base in the city, for a while, once this… Petras leaves, you would be free to come and go as you please. Not that you wouldn’t before, of course.”

The Base Commander, among many other Chaos Marines had heard of Primaris Marines, but very few of them had actually ever seen, much less met a Primaris Marine. Also, he’d be stealing these adorable, competent youngsters from the Loyalists for a while.

“We will think on your offer, sir,” Catius says diplomatically. “It… your offer is appreciated?”

That sounded more like a question, but he nods generously to the youngster. It’s understandable, after all, they will have to decide, whether individually or as a group what they feel is safer. Stay in the Loyalist base where a known murderer of one of their Friends is coming. Or go to the Chaos Base, and all that entails to hide out in for a while.

“Let me know either way,” Hura says with a patient nod. “There are plenty of options. I know there is a Blood Angel and Lamenter base nearby that would be happy to take in Jophiel, and likely the rest of you as well, for a time at least.”

Catius and Cedric make complicated faces at that. Which Hura notices and tilts his head a little. Interesting reaction. Especially since young Jophiel is in Blood Angel armor, and has a very rare blessing for a Son of the Great Angel. His holy wings, and a Psyker’s power, well trained in Loyalist fashion.

“The Blood Angels do know about Jophiel… right?” Hura asks, brow furrowing.

The looks they give each other, and the suddenly placid masks on both of their faces. “What they do or don’t know isn’t something I’m aware of. Sir.”

Ah, that was from the young Ultramarine, in that smooth tone of bland nothingness. Which likely meant that no. Jophiel hasn’t reported into the Blood Angel and Lamenter base yet. Which is interesting since the youngster has been here for several months. That speaks of… something. Sons of the Great Angel, no matter the chapter tend to flock together and are quite a tight knight lot.

From what Hura knows of the Ninth Legion they are particularly protective of their Psykers, and of their brothers who have more of the Great Angel’s rarer traits. Perhaps the lad doesn’t want to be smothered for being the only winged one of his brothers in this hemisphere? Or does it imply something else about M42, something darker, and grimmer.

[taythecatfey]

Okay so it was a joke that a handful of my ocs were just white haired, or blond anime boys with purple eyes. Makes those boys perfect Son's of the Phoenix

[ka0mik]

Since you guys seemed to love my autism space marines, I figured I might as well draw it :P

can’t think of a chapter name for em tho so I’ll tell ya what: best chapter name gets a shoutout next time I post these dudes.

[valhallasoutlaw]

Not gonna finish this, but here's another Argus

[subjectcarne]

i don't even know what to write here man, HORRID commission for a friend

sebastian solace and john alien in a space marine fit making out sloppy style

[littledarknesgold]

No Prayer At Midnight

Warnings: yandere, mention of murders, persecution, obsession, possession, mention of torture, mention of violence.

(A quick word of advice for all Space Marine owners: you don't want to come back for days with the scent of another Astartes on you, especially if you have a somewhat jealous companion.)

The massive heavy door creaked as it opened and the small human prisoner was blinded by the light coming from outside.

However, this did not last long and the door slammed shut again behind the back of the Brother-Interrogator who had entered.

The man tied to the floor cringed at the sound of the Dark Angel's rattling sabatuns. The owner had known him for many years, this Brother-interrogator he had never even allowed the thought that his mate, his companion, could do something like that.

The Astartes leaned over the prisoner, his seemingly clumsy fingers stroking the man's hair with loving care.

The poor guy no longer screamed, did not demand answers, did not try to argue or reason with his Dark Angel, because it was pointless, nothing would change.

The Space Marine kept his eyes on his man and took the whip off his belt. He never thought his human would need such harsh discipline, but in the end, he helps his man repent and then they will begin to live as they should have long ago.

Away from all those boring humans distracting his human, away from the other Astartes who seemed to him to always be trying to steal his human.

He had been planning for a long time how it would be just the two of them. Just him and his human.

Just the two of them. Alone.

Art belongs to this author: @vthestalker

Thanks for your help!